A cold poem

So, just before we’re thinking about the thaw, here’s a recent poem.  It’s been quite a while since I built a snowman – 16 years, in fact.  I was just hunting around for things on which to write sonnets and somehow dug up this subject from a dusty back shelf in my brain.

Snowman

Off with the frozen gloves, so stiff with ice,
Off with the cosy beanie from my head,
unravel the scarf that’s wrapped around me twice
and the earmuffs so ugly they’re only fit for bed.
Off with the coat that’s the warmest thing I own,
off with the sodden uggs that are starting to sweat,
wiggle the toes that are still in the frozen zone,
peel off the socks so the toes can start to melt.
On with the kettle, get the cocoa out,
splash in some vodka for an extra treat,
sip it while I admire, without a doubt
the fact that I’ve built the best one in the street.
Under the porch light my five-foot snowman glows
with coal black eyes and a big fat carrot nose.

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